


r/relationshipadvice

by villhag



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, here you go, i blame the conahs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villhag/pseuds/villhag
Summary: I [38F] think my roommate [27F] might be a psychopath. What do I do?
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 187
Kudos: 457





	1. I [38f] think my roommate [27f] might be a psychopath. What do I do?

**I [38F] think my roommate [27F] might be a psychopath. What do I do?**

by true_crime69

Hi Reddit. I don’t usually post here but I honestly don’t know where else to put this that won’t get flagged by the FBI. So I’ve been living with this girl (let’s call her V) for five months now. I found her through craigslist (long story) and she really needed a place to stay (I still don’t know why she was so desperate) and I needed to pay the rent, so… yeah. 

tl;dr She ended up being really fucking annoying. She takes my food from the fridge all the time. Like _directly_ in front me. She seems to think this is okay because she makes me meals to eat as leftovers (and leaves little post-it notes with my name on it on the tupperware), but just because she’s a good cook doesn’t mean I’m not pissed. Like get your own cabbage then? Not to mention that she also comes back home at 2AM, wakes me up and begs me to watch movies with her. Not even good ones―I’m talking subpar Disney shit. My sleep schedule is a fucking wreck. We’ve seen Shrek 25 times.

Listen. It gets worse. Even after five months, she won’t tell me what her job is. She _insists_ she’s an accountant but she can’t do basic math to save her life. She always venmos me the wrong amount for our grocery bills then leaves me a bunch of one dollar bills “to make up the difference”??? Like. Okay, also: she has a weird obsession with _knives???_ and she has twelve different iPhones. I think she might actually be a hitman. Maybe.

For legal reasons that was a joke.

Okay, no it wasn’t. There’s this man who facetimes her everyday and yells at her in Russian. Maybe it’s her Uncle? I hope? Fuck. Okay. This sounds a little insane as I’m typing it. Wow. I might die? If I don’t make a follow up post, it’s because I died. 

Anyway. I recently had a friend contact me about moving down to LA and she asked if I had the space for a roommate. Obviously, I don’t, but I could… if I kicked out V. The thing is, I am genuinely a little scared for my life. She makes these jokes sometimes that if I ever tried to get a new roommate she would stab me in my sleep. Okay, correction―she says she’d stab me _nicely_ in my sleep. She’s really emphatic about that part. I don’t personally see what the fuck the difference is, but either way she just laughs afterwards and asks what I want for dinner??? Like bitch, salmon and a side of not being murdered???

Anyway. Should I kick her out? Fuck. I don’t know. Help.


	2. I [38f] think my roommate [27f] might have tried to murder my friend (?)

**I [38f] think my roommate [27f] might have tried to murder my friend (?)**

by true_crime69

So, guys, holy shit. That first post really blew up. Thanks for all the commentary. Most of it was pretty stupid. Reddit user charizona can particularly suck it ― I have bills to pay, thanks. Divorce lawyers aren’t exactly cheap. You want to hit my cashapp so I can get myself a mansion on the Santa Monica Pier? Sure. Go for it. It’s $eve_poleASStri. Fuck you. Anyway.

So I tried to have a conversation with V about possibly getting a new roommate. Ok. Correction. It was hardly a conversation. I told her to get lost. I’m an asshole, cool, I know. Sue me for being direct? It’s not my fault her head is as dense as a pound of uranium. I can’t even get her to stop using my toothbrush without a World War II-level ultimatum.

(This isn’t a joke. It was either the toothbrush or no more _Tangled._ I feel like other people don’t have to make concessions like this with their roommates, but here I am. What’s new.)

Anyway, it doesn’t even matter, because she hasn’t taken the news well at all. Actually, let me rephrase that ― she _hasn’t_ taken the news. She is quite literally ignoring it. And me. All of it. She has dispatched herself from reality. Like, actively denying the fact that I am evicting her. What the fuck? Who does that? Does she not realize she’s going to be on the streets? 

Like ― look at this. I am begging you, Reddit, please translate this fuckery into a language I can understand. 

Like??? UGH. She is such a brat. A complete idiot. She circumvented the entire conversation and brought home a bunch of scones and croissants. As if that would solve the issue? I tried to bring the topic up again but she just turned the volume up on the TV super loud and guilt-tripped me into watching a season of Jeopardy with her. Asshole.

(Side note tangent whatever ― she is _really_ good at Jeopardy. Well, some categories. She asked me if Abraham Lincoln was the name of a male model in one round but somehow knew the precise coordinates of the Egyptian Pyramids in another. I have zero idea what school she went to, or, frankly, _where_ she went to school ― I’m voting either in an underground Russian bunker or an alien colony on Venus ― but either way their curriculum must have been… interesting.)

So a few days go by post-“conversation” and I can barely get her in a room to discuss it. In the meantime I’ve been texting my friend about the whole situation and she thinks I should get the police involved? Personally I feel like that’s a bit of an overreaction. The threatening my life thing is kind of an inside joke anyway. Wait. Ew. Not to suggest that we have inside jokes. I just mean that it’s not serious. She’s just weird. UGH. Whatever.

Anyways for a few days now it seems like she isn’t even _at_ home. I don’t hear her come home late (she always slams the door and then tiptoes super quietly, because why would she ever do anything that makes sense.) She hasn’t woken me up to watch movies. She hasn’t even touched my groceries. 

(Which actually has kind of sucked because I’m used to eating her leftovers. Whatever.)

So that brings us to today, and the title of my post, which is… I get a text from my friend, right? She’s like, oh, hey Eve, thought you should know that I’m… IN THE HOSPITAL???? And I’m like okay cool cool WHY? And she’s like: minor stab wound. 

Let’s say that together, Reddit.

Minor. Stab. Wound.

Apparently my friend (who, fine, she gets a codename too, let’s call her El3na) was in the bathroom of this bar last night when she sees this woman come in. Tall. Lanky. She doesn’t see her face; the woman brushes by her, says _oh, sorry_ in a hoity-toity British accent and suddenly El3na is on the floor in a pool of her own blood.

Look. I’m not saying it’s V. That would be kind of insane. I mean this woman had a british accent, for one. V definitely does not have a british accent. My friend also lives in Ohio, which is nowhere near LA. V would have had to travel all the way to Ohio, track my friend down to the nasty bar bathroom, stab her with a knife, wash it off, toss it in the sanitary products bin, meander her way out, get on the next flight back to California, and then walk casually back into our apartment with Chinese takeout.

That would be crazy, right?

Right?

  
  



	3. I [38f] think I might kill Reddit.

**I [38f] think I might kill Reddit.**

by true_crime69

I swear to fucking God.

Let’s get something out of the way ― if I have to read one _single_ more comment that says “bump coochies,” or “this sounds romantic wym,” or an accusation that I’m “extremely fruity,” I’m going to pull the trigger. No, not on me. On every single one of you. This apartment has enough room to fit two serial killers, we clear?

Oh ― whoops. That sounded a little deranged. Sorry. I’m not exactly keeping it all together lately if I’m being honest lol. I’ve been running low on money for months, all my freelance writing gigs have dried up. The market just isn’t there ― no one wants to read good, well-researched true crime anymore. They’d rather watch some bullshit on cable TV about sexy assassins doing sexy assassin things. As if. Reality check: hitwomen aren’t just walking around being pretty and nice. They’re stealing your goddamn groceries!!!!

Ok. I’m mostly joking. V and I have actually been on... better terms lately. I eventually convinced myself that it was absolutely insane to believe that she would have gone all the way to Ohio to stab my friend _just_ to avoid moving out. That is just way too ambitious for her. This woman spends more time on TikTok than she does pretending to be an accountant. 

And oh my god, the pretending has gotten _ridiculous_. She is so, so bad at it. I have no fucking clue what her actual job is, but it definitely has zero to do with numbers. Or logic. Or critical thinking. After I pestered her enough about where she works, she added me on LinkedIn, and… oh my god, guys. She is clinically ill. 

Her current job? Freelance Accountant at NASA. 

NASA. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration.

Why in the fuck would NASA have a freelance… accountant? Also… NASA???? The last episode of Jeopardy we watched, I had to remind her that Earth only has one moon. ONE MOON. This bitch insisted that we had a Moon-1 and a Backup Moon. Shit, maybe she _does_ work at NASA. 

Much likelier, she is just an idiot. Or has a really dumb sense of humor. Both.

Which is… fine. It’s kind of amusing, sometimes. Truthfully, I haven’t laughed like this is in… a long time. She’s just constantly _saying things._ Dumb, stupid things. Like stopping me before I leave for work and asking me what my favorite flavor of poptart is. Or texting me about dogs she sees on her way to _“work”._ Or sending me spotify playlists entirely consisting of Baby Shark remixes. God. She is … _so much_. 

It feels weird. _I_ feel weird. Whatever. I’ve felt weird for the past 38 years, I think I’ll recover.

Anyway, back to today’s topic at hand. You all. I came on here to get advice, and the best advice I’ve gotten so far is to log off and touch some grass. At least grass knows when to shut the fuck up. (It can’t talk ― get it? Ugh. Whatever) I thought I would read some enlightening opinions, but you know what I got? I got a bunch of annoying gay people and a pyramid scheme.

(In before you try and cancel me for “annoying gay people” ― I am attracted to women. _Not_ my psychopathic roommate, before you say something stupid. But… women. That’s all I’m going to say on that. Get out of my business, you freaks.)

But yes, besides that, one of you decided it would be funny to catfish me. Funny! Really good joke!!! In my own goddamn comment section. I’m here to publicly call out this individual, Reddit user cmartens6. Block, report, sue her. Full force of the law. Asshole. Says to me that she’s hiring for MI6. _That_ MI6. Makes me fill out an entire application, cover letter, I even get El3na to vouch for me. Then I get _this_ email back.

I have no words.

Anyway, I don’t even know why I’m still posting here. Out of boredom, I suppose. Maybe out of a small part of me that still thinks V might kill people professionally. That she might have tried to stab my friend to avoid having to find a new apartment in LA. (Which, fair, but.) I mean, that would be insane, right? Totally insane. Totally, completely…

Whatever. If you have anything actually _relevant_ to say, then spit it out in the comments.  
  
  



	4. I [38f] think my roommate [27f] is “tiktok famous”????

**I [38f] think my roommate [27f] is “tiktok famous”????**

by true_crime69

Hello again, internet assholes. Yes ― I know it’s been awhile without an update. No, I will not apologize. Just because you trended #truecrime69isoverparty to get my attention does not mean I actually feel bad for you. But good job! You all found a hobby. I’m so proud of you. Try leaving the house next time. 

And no, I’m not back here to do charity work. Trend as many hashtags as you want. I just... have a new problem. Well, same problem, same incredibly annoying asshole, different set of mind-numbing questions. Because if a woman has ever contained multitudes, it is this tall, dumb millennial.

So, an “update” 😒: the past month has been remarkably… fine. I’ve actually learned to tolerate V. Tolerate… coexisting with her, I guess. Her weird quirks are notably less grating and somewhat more… acceptable. Endearing. Nice? No, that’s _definitely_ not it. Pass me a fucking thesauras. They have become _passable_. Non-terrible. What I’m trying to say is that I no longer want to knock her into next weekend when she wakes me up in the middle of the night to watch _The Office_ reruns. Or when she takes my groceries out of the fridge to make microwave quesadillas.

Before you idiots try to cyberbully me: 1) yes, I have told her MULTIPLE times that we can watch _The Office_ at virtually any time whatsoever due to the magical innovation of video streaming. She does not care. She just gives me a weird look and says “it does not hit the same” to watch it any other time other than 2AM. Whatever the fuck that means.

2) Yes, I know “microwave quesadillas” are a sin. I know I am going to hell. But they, in V’s own, stupid words, _slap_. They slap mercilessly. Not to mention that they are incredibly efficient. Don’t even fucking try me in the comment section. And before you do, at least do yourself a favor and make them. I promise you we will have zero to discuss afterwards. Here.

So, yeah, anyways. We’ve been spending a considerable amount of time together. Not intentionally, obviously, fuck you, but I’m basically unemployed and all of my friends still live in Ohio, so… whatever, fuck. I get lonely? Okay? Okay. And my roommate is about as clingy as a newborn baby. Her and an infant have a lot in common, actually. Little to no common sense. Bad at jeopardy. Loves to wake you up at ridiculous hours.

I mean, okay, maybe with the exception that your newborn baby doesn’t leave the house for seven hour periods without telling you why. Or where it goes. Or when it’s coming back. Unless your baby does that. I don’t know? I’m not a fucking mother. Maybe your baby is 5’8 and weirdly obsessed with watching un-subtitled telenovelas even though it insists it can’t speak Spanish.

Okay, I got a little lost there. She tends to do that to me. Ugh. It’s so fucking irritating. She’s just so… unexplainable? Like everytime I think I’ve gotten to know her better, like _really_ know her, I discover another piece of the puzzle that makes the whole endeavor look like a goddamn circus. Like I’m just a clown chasing around a fucking balloon, a trick of the light, a shitty show prank solely meant for the entertainment of the Reddit masses. I ― look, do you see this shit? She’s turning me into a _poet_. I’m disgusted. 

Anyway, here is a perfect example: she left her phone in my bathroom yesterday. Probably after she was finished borrowing my toothbrush, because she’s an animal. Naturally I picked it up and immediately started snooping. What? It’s not a criminal offense. I’m not a cop. And plus, she doesn’t even have a password. Like I mentioned, insane.

And check this, the maniac has ZERO texts. I mean zero. And she only has three contacts. One named “Konstantin lollllzz,” another that says “Manager 🤢”. Like, manager? Who in their right mind is managing _her_? The mafia? And then, lastly, just… me. Just “Eve💞.” I took the liberty of deleting the hearts. She needs to get some boundaries.

Anyway, I really wish that was the worst part. It is not. I checked her notifications and... she had 10,000 of them. Yes, you read that right. Ten thousand notifications. From where? Tiktok. That app for children. I had never even _heard_ of Tiktok before this, mind you. I thought it was for grade schoolers. Apparently not. Apparently it’s a _thing_. And oh my god, V is _big_ on this… _thing_.

Like, big big. Four million followers big. And I watched her videos, they’re… stupid? Like, immensely stupid. She just tells people to “put a finger down” or bats her eyelashes and says “hey queens.” And boom, a gazillion likes. Has she brainwashed these people? Are they robots? Is our society on the brink of collapse?

Am I rooming with a celebrity or a serial killer? _Both?_

Christ. Fuck. I think I might be losing it.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAOOOOOO someone take away my keyboard i'm begging u


	5. Reddit just doxxed my [38f] apparently famous roommate [27f] ???? Wtf??

**Reddit just doxxed my [38f] apparently famous roommate [27f] ???? Wtf??**

by true_crime69

So, fuck y’all. Let’s get that out of the way.

This is great! Just fucking phenomenal. Thank you so much!!!!!

I accidentally include V’s real person name in my post for _two whole minutes_ before deleting it and you guys somehow track down her tiktok, leave HUNDREDS of comments about her “fruity roommate,” who wants to get “true crime’d” by a “sapphic, 5’8, Shrek-obsessed serial killer.” I have no fucking words. I’m speechless. Except I’m not. I’m fuming.

You know what the worst part is? V didn’t even notice the comments. She apparently gets so many ― because, again, she is famous for telling people to put up and down their fingers, or _whatever_ ― that a few hundred out of place replies didn’t trigger anything out of the ordinary for her. No, my absurdly dense roommate would have continued going about her normal, everyday, unhinged business if it wasn’t for the smartass who decided to _text_ her.

How you got her phone number, I don’t care. I really don’t. But of all the things you had to send her, it really had to be this, huh? It really did?


	6. My [38f] roommate [27f] can’t... read????

**My [38f] roommate [27f] can’t... read????**

by true_crime69

You know, when some anonymous fucker sends your insane roommate a picture of a horse with some text insinuating that you want to sleep with her, here are some things that might run through your mind:

“Oh no! Now my insane roommate thinks I want to sleep with her.”

No, actually, that’s the only thought. The sole thought. Other thoughts do not occur to you. Here is an example of a thought that does not cross your mind, even in the slightest ―

“Oh, this is fine actually. Why? Because my roommate can’t read English. My roommate who tells me she was born in Los Angeles and works professionally as an accountant (but has a distinctly Eastern European accent and can’t do multiplication) can’t read English. Obviously.”

And this thought naturally _won’t_ cross your mind as she’s showing you said photo, pressing it up to your eyeballs with a sad, confused frown on her face. It won’t cross your mind when you freak out, preemptively slam the bedroom door closed and immediately yell fuck you at the internet. No, it won’t cross your mind until eventually you get tired of her knocking at your door nonstop and playing Britney Spears too loud because she knows _Toxic_ gives you mental hives ―

And then she’ll look at you, all upset-like, and your heart will fall to the floor because you’ve become weirdly fucking _attached_ to this weirdo, and she’s staring at that dumb fucking horse and you’re about to babble on about how it’s some sicko’s idea of a joke, and then she’ll say… this. She’ll say:

“Eve, what do the words say?”

And you don’t really hear her, you’re way too focused on salvaging this disaster, and how you’re going to kill the Internet, taking out each wire one-by-one, or however the fuck the Internet works, so you say ―

“I have no idea who sent that. Probably some stupid asshole.”

And then she’ll be like:

“ _Okayyy_ ,” and she’ll roll her eyes, looking embarrassed, and you’ve seen a lot of dumb emotions cross her face, but never _that_ , not even close, “but what do the words say? I can’t… make them out.”

And then you’ll stare at her like an awkward preteen and she’ll stare back, and she’ll sigh, and hand you the phone, and her mouth will keep opening and re-opening and you just want to stop it from moving, freeze her lips in real-time because _God_ , they’re so fucking annoying, red and nice and stupid ―

“I cannot read, Eve,” she’ll say, like _obviously_ , “I… forgot.”

“Forgot what? How to read?” you’ll say, because, _what?_

“Yes,” she’ll say, with the tone of _duh_ , “it happens. I do not read often. Maybe in… years. Okay, so maybe I never read. My school did not have many books.”

And then, finally, _that_ thought will cross your mind - my roommate can’t read, so she can’t read the fucking horse text, so she can’t know I want to sleep with her - not that I _want_ to sleep with her - and you’ll argue with yourself for a few incredibly tense seconds before relief hits you like a tsunami, and then, immediately after, absolute, unfettered confusion.

And yes, Reddit, before you ask - I grilled her on everything. And it’s honestly insane I hadn’t come to the conclusion myself. I had been so intent on her being a murderous psychopath that I had forgotten to focus on the eight thousand other inconsistencies. I mean, seriously, nothing about this woman has _ever_ made sense ― her being partially illiterate is honestly _illuminating_. Fucking clear as day.

So let’s run through why, because I know you won’t believe me off the bat. Not like I need you to believe me, but I just needed to… write this shit down. Somewhere. And now I’m not worried about her ever finding it - reading it? Jesus Christ. 

One - the texts. How did she text me? Siri, apparently. She speech-to-texts everything, and a screen-reader does the reading. Literally I have NO idea how I didn’t catch this earlier. I’ve never once seen her touch her keyboard except to type emojis. Or touch a book, for that matter. Also she asks Siri everything ― and I mean _everything_. From googling “how to cook asparagus” to “how much time between now and tomorrow.” ??? 

Two - Jeopardy. She always makes me reread the Jeopardy questions outloud to her if she didn’t catch the narration. ALSO she never gets any of the ones about words. No, her dumbass expertise lies in planets, constellations, and Icelandic culinary traditions. 

Three - she can’t read her Tiktok comments. Fucking duh. Obviously she can use the screen reader but apparently listening to three thousand individual no-lifes comment about her “sexy hands” isn’t her ideal afternoon; frankly, this was the most surprising part for me. I’m still not buying that she hasn’t recorded that shit and packaged it as a before-bed audiobook. 

I’m not kidding when I tell you I sat there and questioned her for a solid hour. Maybe two. I couldn’t find a single fault in her reasoning, so I’m either a really shitty detective, she’s an expertly good liar, or she’s telling the truth and I’m left even more confused than I started.

But you know what’s sick? Like, actually sick? Obviously, I don’t care if she can’t read. Good for her. English is a shit language anyways. What’s sick is I can’t stop thinking about all the stupid post-it notes she left on my tupperware. They never said _casserole_ or _hangikjöt_ or whatever food she had decided to invent in our kitchen that week; she just… the only thing I’ve ever seen her write is my name.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to cash, whose impeccably researched illiterate villanelle thread did a lot of the heavy-lifting here.


End file.
